


hurt doesn't discriminate

by orphan_account



Series: hamilton drabbles [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grounding, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Panic, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: static burns in his eyes and alexander tries to get the beating of his heart under control.





	hurt doesn't discriminate

one two three four five six seven eight nine─

alexander counts the beats of his heart and feels it getting faster and faster and faster in time with his breathing. everything blurs slightly ─ alexander presumes it is because of the lack of oxygen going around his system.

  _five._

he tries to count five things he sees through the static ─ his trembling hands, the paper scattered on the floor, the quill & inkwell (it only counts as one thing in his mind). the broken window. his desk.

the static mellows.

_four._

four things he can touch. alexander reaches out and scrumples up a piece of paper with one hand. he trails his free fingers over the floor. drums his fingers against the windowsill and wrings his hands together.

alexander feels his breathing slow down.

_three._

hamilton can barely hear, but he tries to identify three sounds that ring in his ears. there's the whistling of the wind. the rustling of the papers he rolls in his hands. footsteps coming down the hall towards alexander.

he wonders whose they are. john's, probably. alexander hopes it's john, at least.

_two._

smell. alexander finds that sense often remains, so smell is the easiest thing to identify. there's the sharp-sweet iron of blood that fills his nostrils; and, beyond that, there is the faint, earthy smell of laurens as he sits down beside him. 

_one._

one thing he can taste.

blood.

his own blood in his mouth, warm and iron-bitter, and sick to the tongue.

john gently rubs his back as alexander blinks his eyes open slowly.

"breathe, alexander." he whispers. "you are safe here. i love you."

alexander leans into him, heart beating evenly, breaths slow and controlled.

"i love you too."


End file.
